Souls in Silver Midnight
by Lady Crysania Majere
Summary: CHAPTER 4 IS UP! In this chappy, Rose and Lloyd have a long conversation, and the former finds herself asking unwanted questions. One mans fall is reminicent of anothers, and the plot unfolds! R/R!
1. Rememberance

**A/N: Ok, so, ah, er, um and all that junk. This is my first LOD fic and my second fic in all. It is a Lloyd/Rose fic, something we here in the LOD section of ff.net are in sore need of. I am not saying we all become geniuses and write another Save my Tears but the least you people could do is try? For me? No, wait, let me rephrase that, for Rap's ?(who's permission I haven't asked but I am _sure_ would love another L/R fic anyway) Well, tell if like and don't forget, READ AND REVIEW!**

**Disclaimer: LOD belongs to Squaresoft, and Rap's (whose numerous works have given her more rights to it then all those money grubbers in Squarsoft combined.)**

^Lady Crysania Majere

And now…on with the fic…

**_Souls in Silver Midnight_**

            It was always midnight between the worlds. Pure darkness, save the thin, keening, gray-black wind, which resided there, conveying souls swiftly to purgatory. Nothing else lived in that midnight tunnel, and it was often disputed that nothing did, as the winds' quality was not that of life. Oh, sure, there were plenty of guardians (Zackwell, and Ra'shin just to name a few), but even they never entered the place, much lest lived there. Only souls could leave and enter unhindered, and them, only once. Most say (though when they do say it, they do it both softly, carefully, and glancing behind their shoulders) that Soa had never meant to create Between (as it was called), and on occasion, it was even muttered that Between had existed well before Soa's time. But that was blasphemy, mad, and impossible besides. Soa was first and created first, She must have simply created Between and it's Wind for purposes of her own. And no one dared question Soa.

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**_Darkness/but then again, here it was always dark._**

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**_Wind/how long had she beat against it? Hours? Days? Years?_**

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**_Sanity/it did not matter. The Wind relented now as much as it had then._**

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**_Hope/there was none left._**

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**_Rage/she clawed at the darkness, straining. _**

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Memory/ She would not go to the other place. The hated place. Death, was it called? She could not remember. She had bested it once.

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**_How/how?! HOW?! She could not remember. But she would do it again._**

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**_Reason/she had forgotten. All that was left was to struggle. She would not give up! Not now not ever._**

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Others raced by her. Riding the Winds current. Fools. Pitiful, weak fools. She paid them no attention. She had to get out. To Life, oh sweet, sweet, Life.

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**_One clung to her. No time. She had no time to waste. The Wind now pushed her more forcefully now._**

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She tried to claw it away. No time. What did it want?! Irritably she listened to the soft mental call it gave. She had no time for this. No time. 

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**_Probably asking directions. No time for this. Listen. No time._**

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**_The voice was firm, strong. It was not entirely resigned yet. She must be far closer to Life then she had thought! She must hear. Listen._**

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_Life. Live. Fight._

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**_She was impressed, but disappointed. Another like her, she had not thought it possible. But she was not near Life yet._**

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_Together?_

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**_The thing must have sensed her probing. It was strong. Possibly as strong as she. It wanted them to work together! How amusing._**

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**_Why?_**

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**_No one ever asked if there was nothing to gain. Not that she had met another._**

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_Strong._

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**_Full of itself, wasn't it? It must have had quite a bit of arrogance for any trait to linger long in Between. But then again, arrogance had always been one of her favorite qualities._**

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**_Bind. How?_**

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**_Defiantly a problem. The only way for them to be useful collectively would be to Bind together so they could have access to each others strength, both physically and magically. Her mind warned of consequences but surely nothing was as bad as the Wind. As Death. But she was no Wingly, thus could not Bind. Wingly. She wondered what that was._**

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_I. Now. Yes?_

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**_The voice was still coolly arrogant. But irritation and something vaguely like hope tinted it. It would be nice not to fight alone. _**

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**_What the hell._**

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**_Yes._**

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**_What came next was a sensation of stretching, mixing, gaining, and giving. She had been right; it was as strong as she. The new power pumped her. Feeding her._**

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_Strong!_

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The voice sounded both smug and shocked. Full of itself indeed! It must have been male. If she remembered correctly men loved ego boosts.

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**_Strong._**

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**_She agreed, men seemed to work better if you appeared to see eye to eye with them. And it was then and together that they began to push against the Wind._**

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**_It was long before they came to the barrier to Life, but to get out all it took was a final thrust. To get out. Out. Into sweet and glorious life._**

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            Rose had a headache; reconsidering the amount of throbbing pain in her head, she decided it must be a hang over instead. Not that she could exactly remember drinking, but when one had drunk enough to merit the agony blooming across her temples, one would probably not remember drinking. Still, it was strange, Rose had never liked drinking. She grimaced painfully, now for the routine part. After one has been drinking one must always check for three things;

One must check to see what one has ended up using for a bed. 

She had little need to open her eyes for that(which she did not), the stone digging rather painfully into her shoulder blades told all. Passing out on the ground is defiantly something she'd not want to remember. Oh well. It could have been worse.

One must check to see if one is in possession of all of ones clothes. 

Again, something that did not require one to open ones eyes. Thankfully, she discovered she was still in possession of those necessary articles. However, dirty, dented, bloody, gauged, sweaty or punctured they felt against her skin. She was still in her armor. It could be worse. Lastly….

3. One must ALWAYS check that there is NEVER, EVER, a man in a place close enough to have shared the same sleeping spot as you, be that spot bed or ground.

She really didn't think she needed to check that. She trusted a drunk Rose as far as she could spit, but even with that small amount of trust she was sure that she would **_never_** lie with a man. Not after Zeig. She winced and pushed the thought from her mind. But…rules were rules , sighing she blinked her eyes open. Only to find herself looking into a pair of crimson eyes. Male eyes. Wingly eyes. **This** could not have been worse.

**_Damn. It. All._**

**__**

And that was when she began to summon up the last days memories.

The Wind. The darkness. The insanity. The creature to which she had bonded. 

**_Damn. It. All._**

**__**

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            Lloyd had never been ill once in his 11,000 some years of life. Maybe it was just him. Maybe it was some long vanished Wingly trait. He was not sure. But right now, he concluded, he was very sick. Unless those hundred some dragons stomping about in his head were real. Yes, he was defiantly ill. Vaguely, he recalled someone teaching him something of human sicknesses. The common potion was good for most anything. Antidotes for toxins'. Not he _was_ poisoned, but it was always good to know. Now what was in the common potion again? Redroot, cu'terin, dogleaf, and….what was it? Damn! Maybe he should just Heal himself. Lloyd hesitated, he hated using magic when humans were around. Not that he thought there _were_ an humans about but…. Humans were much the same as insects; numerous, annoying, weak, and to be found when ever you turned over a rock. What _was _ that last ingredient?! The bloody dragons were getting very much on his nerves. Perhaps he should get up. Moving would probably help. It might keep his mind off things. Opining his eyes he got up, sighing irritably. The dragons did _not _want him moving. They renewed there stomping with vigor, adding much of what he supposed must be tail thrashing and head bashing. Damn. Grumbling he stretched, and began to look around. 

Upon surveying nightfall on the broken, desert-like wasteland around him, he felt immediately felt sick again, enough to make for those 11,000 some years. Daiz. Zeig. Melbu Frama. The god of destruction. Damn. How in the hell had he survived? Had he? His stomach twisted, and he began the recollection.

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            Lloyd hated ignorance. He hated confusion as well. And he was completely positive he must hate helplessness worse than the two previous combined. Maybe it was because all three of them were quite new to him. Most Winglies he knew also hated new things, but up until know, he had always wondered why.

            The dragons were gone now (mercifully), but what they had left behind was almost as bad as if they had decided to settle down permanently. He had walled it off, deep in a hidden corner of his mind, but it was still there, living, breathing, the Other. Now that it was over and done with, the price paid, he began to regret his decision in Binding. The permanent link it created between two creatures shared thoughts, emotions, and a binding invisible string as well as power, knowledge, and skill. Even before the fall of the Wingly Empire, Binding was almost non-existent save in the most intimate (and almost always, husband to wife) relationships. The fact that **_he_** had bonded to who-knows-what type of _creature_…. Yes he was seriously regretting his mistake in Between. Of course, he realized, he did know _something_ of whatever it was. A few things, actually. He had always been observant and now observing was paying off. 

One; the creature was undeniably female, though not the fragile, porcelain sort. Only a female could be as skeptic, as demanding as that one had been, as practical(well perhaps not that.).

Two; the woman was defiantly knowledgeable, immediately ruling out humans and Gigantico.

Three; the woman had immense strength in both sword (or what ever weapon she used, (and he was sure she did use a weapon), though he sneered on spear and would laugh openly at bow.) and magic. He had never really considered that anyone in this time could get so…. well there was only one word for it, powerful. He had not seen her like in at least 9,000 years, and had not expected to see it again. Maybe in some places the old blood still ran stronger than he had thought possible. Maybe she _was_ one of the old blood, though he had been positive he could count those old enough and surviving on one hand. Name each name in one breath. Who? Damn it! Who? 

As Lloyd moved through the broken ruble he pretended it was these questions that kept him moving forward. Kept him from flying off. He pretended it was these that tugged at him, prodded. All the while denying a thin invisible cord dragging him inexorably on.

The sun was just topping the horizon when he came to it, the large pile of rocks, no different from many others. Had anyone seen the tall, lithe, silver-haired figure stop beside the mound, they would have suspected he had chosen randomly, from either coin toss, or perhaps dice. Yet it was to this that his feet had led him, and this at before which the pulling stopped. With a combination of both reluctance and eagerness he approached the rubble. Yes. She was there, he could feel the Bond resounding at such a close distance to its twin. Carefully he activated the long flows of bluish magic used for wings and glided up to the top of the heap, where one large, slab of stone lay tilted. Reaching down he lay his fingertips upon the cool face of the rock. Using only the smallest spell he extracted the stone and hurled it down some twenty feet away. Turning back, he stared at the figure within, noting that she had avoided being crushed by a hair. Black hair. And after he had been so sure she was a Wingly …disappointment flooded him. Oh well he could live. Maybe. 

It was then that something about her face caught his eye. She seemed… familiar, somehow. His mind strained, but as quickly as it had come, the familiarity was gone, flashing through one of the many gaping holes in his memory. The dried blood masking her face wasn't helping either. Maybe if he got just a _little_ bit closer…. And he did, bending close enough so that he could see every detail clearly, which was also close enough to be considered unseemly, not that he noticed. Lloyd had a curiosity to settle and really, who could ever think of a _human_ that way? Damn and damn again! That idiotic little memory flaunted and danced just out of reach. If only….

The eyelids on the face beneath him moved. The ringing in his head becoming almost a dull roar, and suddenly he was staring into a pair of, dark, cold, violet eyes. And Lloyd remembered.

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So? Like? No like? Did you notice I got Lloyd into saying 'Damn' a whole bunch? If you did….well J. Tell me in your review and you get a cookie. Those of you who read this anyway. And remember, we're on the honor role here. Be truthful, (and though there is no way in h*** I'm going to know) and I'll give you **_2_** cookies. R/R. J


	2. Revelations

A/N: Um...I KNOW I'M LATE I'M SO SORRY!!!!! GODS! I've just _completely_ spaced out…stopped thinking about it for weeks….months…O_O…in the end, only your reviews kept me going…thank you to everybody who reviewed…^_^…you are the reason this chapter is here. ^_^..THANKYOUTHANKYOU!!!! Um...lets see. Thanks to everybody who physically beat my head into a wall to get me to write the fic…I appreciate..^_^…yeah…Well, tell if like and don't forget, READ AND REVIEW!

Disclaimer: LOD belongs to Squaresoft, and Rap's (whose numerous works have given her more rights to it then all those money grubbers in Squaresoft combined.)^_^…yeah

~Lady Crysania Majere

And now…on with the fic…

**__**

Souls in Silver Midnight

Chapter two: Revelations

By Lady Crysania Majere

            For that second, Lloyd was completely frozen, the shock of recognition slightly more than his already stressed mind could tolerate. The fact that this human –Rose, if he recalled correctly- was scrutinizing him in a fashion much akin to the way a scientist examines a bug, was not helping either. Returning her stare (though not without effort) he reevaluated the situation, found less than meager clues to what was going on, discounted them as insane, then assessed the situation a third time. The results were the same.   
  


  
            A Human (female, though he didn't particularly count it against her), was analyzing him in a fashion that suggested she had all the intention of crushing him under her boot heel. An impossible achievement, he reminded himself, nervously holding the dissecting gaze of the twin violet eyes.  
  


  
            That being also had far more power then was (in all sane means) possible for a HUMAN to possess, even if they did hold one of the Dragoon Stones (commonly referred to as Spirits)

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            Of the Stone itself, well, that was just and added bonus. Discounting the rarity of possessing such an object, it would _have to be (if only to mess with his mind) the Spirit belonging to the Dragoon of Darkness. The one, and only, Dragoon that had managed to escape death in the first Dragon Campaign. Not a mean feat, he recalled with a shudder. It had been more than difficult for him, and __he hadn't had the remainder of the Wingly Empire out for his blood. But that was really beside the point. The Stone had never been found. Its one (previously believed __only) owner had been lost in times great obscurity, her stone with her. And then it had __had to be found. By a reserved (if slightly cynical), impossibly powerful, non-Wingly, who had preceded to acquire a large grudge on his unoffending (or so Lloyd told himself) personage, save the world, die in the process, unceremoniously latch herself on to his unwitting soul in an area he was assuming to be one hell of a purgatory, and then GLARE at him as if it was HIS fault. Joy. Lloyd rarely lowered himself to care about life's injustices, or to sink to the point of what most referred to as self-pity. But today was an exception. Only two words could really express the unfairness of Today.   
  
_

  
_Why me?  
  
  
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            Disgruntled though he was, (and perhaps disgruntled was an understatement) his pride would let him go not another step down the path of humiliation. His face, of this he was positive, still wore its unchanging mask, his body still held the stance of indifferent calm. Maintaining that tranquility, he coolly offered a hand down into the dark space that had served as the Dark warrior's final resting place. In response, the aforesaid 'warrior of darkness' transferred her unblinking glare from his placid face onto the extended appendage, looking for all the world as if the outstretched palm were some bizarre monstrosity. For a second, Lloyd believed she would scorn even that minor courtesy, leaving them both to sit (or in Lloyd's case, stand) in that desert wasteland for the rest of eternity. In the end, however, she did not. Lifting her own calloused and scar blemished one, she met his hand with the firm grip that distinguished many a creature of war. He had expected no less. With a heave just as firm as the two clasped hands, Lloyd easily brought the Dragoon of Darkness to her upright position, realizing rather belatedly that the only reason she had let him do it in the first place had everything to do with curtsey and nothing at all to do with required aid. For a full two seconds they just stood there, a pair of tall, calm, distant, untouchable figures in the morning's first rays. It was Rose who broke the stillness, however. With an almost imperceptible nod of the head, (he guessed in…. thanks?) she began to turn, her glacial eyes taking in the lands ruinous form. A second later, their eyes met, and her head snapped back with such force, he guessed some invisible power might have struck her. The indigo eyes widened a fraction in incredulity and what he took to be recognition, as her lips parted, to utter a sound of both disbelief and shock,_

  
  
"Wingly!"  
  
  
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         It was, of course, he realized, meant as form of personal address, rather than a name. If he recalled correctly she had labeled him the same way on the journey to bring the moon objects to Diaz, in the Capital Vellweb. Zeig, he corrected himself. Not Diaz, Zeig. No, Frama. Not Zeig…. Damn! But still. His patience, usually infinite to the point of unfeasibility, was wearing thin, fraying by the second. The use of the species name opposed to his own almost knocked it off the edge. Almost. But it held, his scraps and shards of dignity preserving his tolerance from complete implosion. Dignity or not, however, one callous remark deserved another. With all the sarcasm, mocking, and fake shock the day had provided, he hurled it back at her,  
  
  
"Human!" 

The word came out quite nicely. Very nicely indeed, if he was to be the judge. Somehow, he had managed to inflict distaste, disgust, sarcasm, scorn, haughtiness, and twenty other disdainful emotions all in to the single word. He watched her eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. He expected it would have taken her at _least a sentence to inflict the same damage, probably a run-on too. Lloyd permitted his mouth to turn up just slightly before feeling it go dry and instantly turn down again. __One sentence, eh? A small, chiding voice spoke within him. __One sentence?! All _she_ needs is a glare…   
  
  
         And it was true. The power, sarcasm, derision, cynicism, disparagement, and utter scorn that played expertly in her violet eyes, yet managed to escape marring her face made her previous glower seem… harmless? Habitual? Mundane? All three? For a moment, Lloyd came as close to flinching as he ever had in his 11,000 some years of life. Almost cringed. Almost. He didn't of course. The day may truly have been one of the more eventful occasions of his life, this __human a complete vexation, and enigma. But she was only human. At the most, twenty-five. The day? He'd been through worse. So, reigning in his wits, he let the mask covering his face harden to a bored look, his figure take a impassive stance, his wings (the only outward sign of his power) slip noiselessly away. Almost lazily he reclined into his stance as well as his features, and began what would be called, on slightly less mature groundings, a staring contest.   
  
  
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        Perhaps it had been an hour since he had begun it, perhaps a minute. Whichever it was, both sides seem to acknowledge the unspoken rule of eye contact. Both sides had also gone through and doled out what __could have been called intimidation. Lloyd had already tried 50 different types of disdain and 20 styles of bored. No words had been uttered as of his last and did not seem to want to be uttered yet. The Bond in his head purred contentedly. __Sometimes things that do not WANT to be done must be done anyway.  
  
  
"This really is childish, you realize?"  
  
  
Her answer. Calm collected. " I know."  
  
  
"Why not stop then?"  
  
  
"Why not you?"  
  
  
Silence. Then…  
  
  
Sarcastic. "Didn't your parents ever teach you manners?"  
  
  
"My parents were killed by Winglies."  
  
  
        The corner of Lloyd's eye twitched just the slightest. _That_ was the closest he'd ever come to flinching. If you didn't count it as a flinch itself. He hadn't thought… hadn't considered… did Winglies still do that, in this day and age…? Not matter. He'd really set himself up for that one. It was the oldest, most selective, most potent way to completely vanquish an opponent in the type of battle he waged now. 'Sorry' was really the only correct answer, and that in itself was capitulation. He couldn't lose this, mustn't lose this, there __had to be another way. Please let there be another way. From the walled off section of his mind, the Bond began to hum again, and words unbidden, sacred, yet irrelevant passed across his tongue,  
  
  
"And mine by the Black Monster."  
  
  
        Lloyd was in no way prepared for the impact of his lexis. The pallid color that immediately assumed the stoic face before him almost made him regret the words, which to him, had seemed to hold so little meaning. The Bond twitched painfully in the back of his head, as for an entire second he watched the color drain from the warrior before him, and a look of distant horror pass over her features. Then it was gone. The facade assumed its lawful place on her features. She was as cold and remote as she had ever been, if slightly ashen. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was slammed unceremoniously onto the rubble, the Dark Dragoons rapier resting lightly on the exposed flesh of his neck. Dazed, he waited for and explanation, and was rewarded when she spoke.  
  
  
"You strike a low blow Wingly."  
  
  
"It's Lloyd. And so do you." The blade pressed none too gently into his skin. He wished he had some idea what they were talking about.  
  
  
"True." She paused and let up slightly on the swords force. As an afterthought, "I hadn't thought you'd known."  
  
  
He wasn't entirely sure how to answer. He gambled. "I guessed."  
  
  
Her eyebrow arched elegantly, and with a voice full of all her old skepticism:  
  
  
"You __guessed?"  
  
  
"Yes." Bluffing, how interesting. The blade was now hovering over the spot where it had once almost entered his neck.   
  
  
"How?"  
  
  
"Does it matter?" Soa, he prayed, let her believe me, and if it isn't too much, let me know what's going on.  
  
  
"I suppose it not. The dragoon stone?"  
  
  
"Partly." What in the __hell?  
  
  
            For a second, there was silence then, "I grew careless, I suppose. Lazy even. No one knew, everyone assumed. Always 'He', it wasn't hard to let something slip. I knew too much, forgot that there were people who could recognize what knowing meant. Still. It never would have happened two thousand- a thousand, years ago."_

It was the longest speech he'd ever heard from her, still, if Lloyd had thought himself bewildered before, it was _nothing compared to now__. Careless…? Lazy…? Somehow he couldn't see it__. Assume? 'He'? Slip? A thousand….**two thousand…years? She hadn't even been ****born then! What happen? Let ****what slip?**_

In this situation, ambiguous answers were always best. "Perhaps."

"Did you _guess" she said the word as if totally disgusted, though now it seemed with herself, "then, at the rest of it? Or do you only know __that part?" _

_I don't know **any of it, Lloyd replied mentally, then with added sarcasm; **__there's a second part? This would be tricky. He did not see 'perhaps,' or 'maybe' working as an answer. __The Bond. It had gotten him into this, it could damn well get him out. He let words pass his lips, not thinking._

"Guess? Not likely. Assumed. After you know the first, the second is…obvious." Lloyd pondered over his words. They made no sense, a first and second what? Obvious why? _What?_

Still, it did not surprise him much when she nodded. Well didn't surprise him more than he'd already been surprised. The Bond gave him several subconscious answers that were allowing him to prevent the rapier hovering undecidedly above his neck from severing his jugular, and he was beginning to trust those instincts. While it was likely he could have escaped the sword by magic, that way would leave him both with his cover blown and as ignorant as he began, which Lloyd was not sure he could live with. 

Again, she nodded. This time slowly, as if she too were trying to make sense of things. To herself, she muttered, "Of course…the first appearance would have been at around the same time. The abrupt vanishing would have been notable. Too much coincidence. The Spirit matched… I knew to much." At this point she paused and nodded once again. "Put two and two together…" Lloyd noticed now that the blades tip had sunk, to point at his collarbone. Testing her attention, he allowed his hand a single twitch. Abruptly, and with a near impossible speed the sword tip was once more pressing rudely into his neck, where just the slightest increase in force would break skin. Lloyd allowed his mouth to curve upward in the tiniest of wry smiles. Vigilant. Completely vigilant. He had no doubt that even the harshest Wingly officers during the time of the Empire could have faulted her on that. 

"I would not try that if I were you Wingly. Now kindly explain how you came to your conclusion. Your _guess."_

"Why?"

"If I am to fix mistakes I must know them. You have already pointed out I am obvious."

Damn. This was getting grim. "You wouldn't understand." Bad idea. He felt a single droplet of blood well up beneath the blade. Very bad idea.

"Why, Wingly?" From the tone of her voice, Lloyd was guessing a wrong answer would be most uncomfortable for him. 

"You're too young." He spoke quickly, confident his answer would satisfy, if irritate. She was at most twenty-five, after all. For half a second, he believed it had worked. Instead, he saw, for the second time in his life (and probably last), the Dragoon of Darkness utterly astonished. Her violet eyes widened, and she pulled her sword abruptly away. Towering over his sprawled form she looked down at him, pure incredulity dancing in her eyes. For half a minute all she did was mouth unintelligible words. Then, with no more warning then the end of her silent litany, she pulled her head back and made the most astonishing sound the wastelands' desert plain had ever heard. 

The laugh rang clear across the devastate land, distorted by the random heaps of ruble. It was soft, almost inaudible, yet cutting, and slightly reticent, as if the owner had not laughed in a long, long time. Lloyd did not particularly doubt that. 

Unexpectedly, the laughter was cut short, "Wingly, you are a decent liar." 

Disappointment flooded him. He had been discovered. "Maybe. I didn't lie though. By definition, I never told an untruth. You assumed." Well…maybe he had bent the truth a _little_.

For a moment, she studied him, as if searching for the flaw in his logic. As he expected, she either did not find it, or did not care to show she knew what it was. Instead she spoke, her dark amethyst eyes narrowed. "In all of 11,000 years Wingly, I have never once underestimated an my opponent. _Always have I given them the benefit of the doubt. It has saved my life more times then I care to remember. But never, __never until today have I so grossly overestimated."_

He returned the stare. "Underestimated. You underestimated me. I bluffed. You were tricked. A case of under estimation if I have ever seen one."

Their eyes were locked, and in Lloyd's head, the nonsensical information he had gleaned was swirling around chaotically.

_The Spirit of the Darkness Dragon… The Spirits matched …survived… __abrupt vanishing…__ first appearance…coincidence…"__I knew to much"…. Careless… lazy… always 'He'…. A thousand…Two thousand years ago… all of 11,000 years…you're too young…wrong…laughter…to know one is to know the other…put two and two together… and you get…. In a single second, everything lined up. The puzzle pieces slipped as easily into place as if some invisible force had arranged them there. _

The voice of some long forgotten textbook spoke in his mind.

Following the fall of the Wingly Empire, the spirit of the darkness dragoon was lost forever with its owner…

God no.

Around the same time that one of the most sinister legends came to power… 

It wasn't possible. Lloyd's mind reeled in horror. This was _not possible._

_Darker and more terrible than anything before, its presence heralded by each 108th year…_

Rose stood over him, making some comment his stunned mind did not register. 

The Black monster was to become the most prominent symbol for evil since the concept of Beelzebub… 

He had thought her too powerful for a human.

_God no._

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            _It was a place much fabled and speculated on. Legend, as well as all the great ballads, mentioned it at least once, though none could ever agree upon its whereabouts or appearance. It was said to be anywhere from at the bottom of the sea to a bedroom closet, its appearance to be everything from a gold gilded garden, to an obscure bookstore. In truth, it was a small place, fairly modest, trees growing sparsely along its edges, there, however, was the end of its normality. The floor was sky, clear blue with the occasional cloud adding a wispy white tinge to the ground. The trees silver and emerald. But this was not at all the reason of its fame. **That lay in the center of the garden. A huge mirror, a patch of silver, placed upon a enormous pedestal of marble, tinted with small veins of gold. Metallic colored roses, copper, gold, silver, platinum, as well as mixes of the alloys bloomed around the edges of the mirror, emphasizing its lack of other adornment. The plainness however, simply served as camouflage for what could be considered the largest scrying glass in the Endiness. To the observer, it would show whatever asked, anywhere, anyplace, anytime, perfectly clear, so that anyone disturbing the surface of the pool would disturb that place as well. Thus the clearing had gotten its tittle; Timesbane. In it, the past, present, and future could be seen as clearly as here and now, and changed. And of all things she had ever made, Soa was most proud of this invention.**_

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_            Deep in the darkness that was Between, the Wind stirred, its attention momentarily taken from its prey. Stretching its power, it searched in its prison for the thing it knew to be out of place. Tendrils of its being spread south, screeching in a dark lament, to find nothing. The exit those tiny mortal souls could slip through were still too small for him. West, still nothing. The plains of black stretched infinitely onward as they always had. Black; such a dull color. East: nothing, in every way, the land just a parody of the west. North…something__… The entrance was…torn. Excitement stirred in the archaic being as he sent more and more of himself to examine the gaping hole between life and purgatory. It was still there. How…? Dimly, he recalled something fighting against those smallest currents of his power. He had been too busy to notice it then, a creature of monstrous proportions having just entered. The Wind had fed quite well on the soul of what called itself the 'God of Destruction', though it had been long and tedious chore to subdue it. And in that time…something had escaped. Keening in a wild lament of terrible exhilaration The Wind soared across the barren plains, scattering souls into disarray as he did so. Then he was there, the yawning wound in the Barrier bleeding Life into his prison of eternal shadow. Carefully he put the tiniest tendril of himself into the open, feeling again the sensation of ultimate power as the smoky wisp took on a solid quality. Carefully anchoring most of his power in Between, he let his sentient self slip into Life. Forming a body of decent proportions the Wind, who had once been a thing called Chaos, scanned the world around him. Delicately, he tore a hole in the time space continuum. Now for some fun._

_!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@!@_

            Soa, goddess of all, watched the pair of mortals through Her mirror. They were so naïve.  Perhaps not as naive as most mortals, (though their ability to cause mayhem seemed to make up for that), but naive they were nonetheless. Her perfect lips pursed into perfect irritation. She wished greatly She could send a random bolt of lightning to split their blasphemous heads. That of course, was now impossible. After they had escaped death a first time, letting Chaos out of purgatory, She had barely managed to shut him up again. She grimaced slightly (perfectly) at the thought. She had been sure no one could rival Her power, unfortunately, She was proven very wrong when, with a great effort, She had _barely_ managed to spin Chaos back into Between. The only reasons She had been able seal him back at all, She admitted to Herself, was Her extraordinary luck, the element of surprise, and the fact that Chaos (or The Wind as most called him) had still preserved most of his powers in Between. Spinning him back into it and patching the hole had forced Her to exert more power than She had since creating the Endiness, and even then, Chaos had not left with nothing accomplished. She shied away from the thought. _That_ could be dealt with later. In the mean time, Her divine presence was none to willing to test and see what would happen if the mortals died again. The prospect of facing a expecting, fully prepared Chaos sent a slight shiver down her spine.

"Cold, M'lady?"

            Soa had known him to be there, but the voice behind Her made her start nonetheless. Turning, She gave the knight one of Her more benign smiles.

"           I have told you before my child, cold is something that only effects mortal. It does not touch me." She watched as the knight's worried gaze dissipated under Her smile. He had, of course, like all the others, undergone Change. Change being the transferring of all loyalty, love, adoration, and awe from things in your mortal life, multiplied around a bit, then transferred to Soa. If a creature did not love or lust for anything, be it riches, people, or power, infusions were necessary, so that all could give proper homage to Her presence. The knight was not, however, one of the former. He had a loyalty to King and country, which She had carefully transferred after the event of his untimely death. This _should_ have left Her with another adoring, if slightly mindless, follower. It had, amazingly, not. He, like others before him, would follow Her around like an overly infatuated guard dog if allowed, but that was where similarities ended. He seemed to not have the bowing and scraping down, nor the proper address, _nor_ etiquette appropriate from mortal spirit to goddess. While even the rudest of spirits called Her the short, uncouth, "Devine and Heavenly Mother" this…this _mortal _deemed a simple "M'lady" suffice! That, and the occasional, "Majesty"! Like She was a _human_, albeit, a royal one. So Change, which had subdued even the greatest mortals, (Melbu Frama, Fuast, all but one of the original dragoons) had left this human virtually unaltered, thus he was Her puzzle, and, until solved, She would tolerate his vulgar language. Unfortunately, She had bigger problems then Her personal mystery at the moment. 

"Is there anything I can do for M'lady then?" Courteous at least. But She wasn't in the mood for his consideration right now. Just as She was about to dismiss him, an idea struck her.

"Lavitz my child? When you where alive you knew the human Rose." It was a statement rather then a question, but he answered it anyway.

"Yes, M'lady."

"You know of her recent death?"

"No M'lady." 

"Then you haven't heard of her recent escape from purgatory?"

The knight's eyes widened. "Escape…?"

"Yes. Another helped her."

"But…The Wind…Chaos…?"

"Escaped, my child. I managed to seal him away again. But not before he did…damage."

"Damage Majesty? But surely M'Lady can fix the problem." He spoke with confidence. For a second she forgave the 'M'lady'. 

"Even I cannot fix a person, my child. Not without killing, and I would not care to see what would happen if a Chaos-being joined the original in Between."

"What is this thing Majesty? How did he create it? It is human?" Immediately the knight seemed to get a hold of himself. Bowing his head he spoke, "Forgive me M'lady, I spoke out of turn, but I am unsettled by the news." 

Again she smiled at him. "That is understandable, Lavitz my child, it is only reasonable to be anxious. For your first and third question, no, it is not human, but a hybrid. Nothing that hasn't been done before. A combination of human and Wingly blood. They are referred to as Dragon Angels, and are quite powerful" That was an understatement. "For your second question, he traveled through time and used a pair of humans to create the child. He took the unformed creature before it was born and brought it back to this time fully formed. It was then I accosted him. One of the humans he used was your Rose."

            The one time Dragoon Lavitz froze for a second, and Soa felt something in the back of his mind stirring. Something he had managed to hide from Her. Anger blazed. How had he…?! How dare he! She sent a small bit of power to find what was hidden. Only to find Her way blocked by a semi-transparent wall of green flames. She could have crushed the defense in a second, but first She would have an explanation. 

Calmly. "What have you hid from me mortal?"

For a second he seemed truly puzzled. "M'Lady? Hid? I…" he trailed off then, a light crimson touched his cheeks. "I…M'lady, I mean to say…I did not think it was important. I…M'lady, I had…awhile ago…M'lady…I had…had an affection for…Rose M'lady…I _am_ sorry I hid it from you M'lady." He bowed his head, half, She believed, to hide the blush.

He had had a…Soa raised an eyebrow. Mortals were such strange creatures. He had not hid military secrets, spells, or any power at all from her eyes, yet a simple _affection_ had been concealed and protected against even her eyes, how amusing humans could be! Better then not to tell him of the second person Chaos had chosen for his experiment. Soa smiled slightly, it would probably not go over well with his little mortal heart if She were to tell him that his murderer and object of past affection had been twisted irrevocably into a perverse relationship. Very well. Smiling slightly, She turned back to the mirror. Reaching out a slender, perfect, hand, She put Her entire palm through the mirror. Behind her, she heard the confused voice of her puzzle. 

"M'lady?"

She ignored him, placing Her other hand into the mirror. 

"Majesty?"

Slowly a golden light began to bloom about Her hands, in seconds it had completely enveloped Her. She felt Her physical form dissipate as She was transported to earth. 

Manipulating was so much easier when the manipulantees' thought they knew what they were facing. This would be interesting. Interesting indeed.

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M/A/N: MORE AUTHORS NOTE!!! MWHAAHHAHA!!!! Yeah..^_^…hope you liked it *sighs* I thought it was a bit confusing and such.._…I MADE SOA A BITCH!!! ^_^!!!! Weird is definitely a word to be used…and I took so loooooooong.._ THANK YOU EVERY ONE WHO REVIEWED!!!! IT WAS YOU WHO KEPT ME WRITING!!! THANK YOU SAPPHY, MY BETA-READER!!!!!! LONG THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!!! ^_^ *HUGE truck drives in…followed by nother, and nother and nother…* as I promised…COOKIES!!! ^_^!!!!! CHOSE YOUR TRUCK 'CAUSE YOU DESERVE IT!!! ^_^!!! COOKIES TO ALL!!!!!!! ESPECIALLY THOSE WHO NOTICED!!! ^_^ AND REVIEWED!!!! ^_^!!!!!!!!!! I NOW HAVE COOKIES FOR ALL!

**'Nywayz…^_^…I've got a poll I need to know what you think on…for future story reference…**

**Poll: I think Soa/Lavitz is…**

**EEEW!!! EW!! EW EW EW!!!!! YOU ARE DISGUSTING!!! ANYONE WHO THINKS THAT WAY IS DISGUSTING!!!!! IF YOU EVER MENTION THAT AGAIN I WILL FLAME!! AND HURL!!! AGAIN!!!! ON YOU!!!! DIEDIEDIE!!! SICKSICK MIND!! @_@**

**You. Are. Gross. Ok? Gross. Lavitz. Soa? Ew. Nuff said. **

**Lavitz and Soa? I dun think so. I mean. If you like it. That's ok. But keep it to your self.**

**Lavitz and Soa? OK pairing if ya ask me. Dun let it interfere with the story tho. **

**Lavitz and Soa? Cool. When you have to mention Soa tho, or Lavitz, make it kinda a romance please.**

**Lavitz Soa. COOL! ^_^…new pairing idea…nice…please include in story.**

**LAVITZ SOA!! LOVE THE PAIRING!!!!! YAY!!!! L/S 4EVER!!!!! ^_^!!! MWAHAAHAH!!!!! MAKE THE MAIN ROMANCE L/S!!! YEAH!!!!!! **

**Other: your words.**

Yeah..thanks..please do poll..^_^…R/R…CHOCOLATE BARS IF YOU NOTICED ALL THE R/L WAS IN LLOYD'S POV!!! ^_^

~LCM


	3. Visions

A/N:….how many years has it been? O_O. BWAH! *cries* I MISSED MY STORY!!! *cries, huggles story* I MISSED MY REVIEWERS!!! *cries, attempts to huggle reviewers, but reviewers all back away to quickly for that* ^_^;;…EEEEEEEEH!! I HAVE TRIED TO DO THIS STORY AT SO MANY POINTS IN THE YEAR!!! O_O…yesterday, my muse came to me…*bows to the muse* and the result you see before you. Bwha. ^_^ THANK YOU FOR REVIEWS!! THEY MOTIVATE ME TO GO ON!!! BWHA!!!! EEEEEEEEEEH!! ^_^

Disclaimer: LOD belongs to Squaresoft, and Rap's (whose numerous works have given her more rights to it then all those money grubbers in Squaresoft combined.)^_^…yeah

~Lady Crysania Majere

Souls in Silver Midnight****

By Lady Crysania Majere

_Chapter Three: Visions_

It was one of those moments in time where everything around you seems to still, and words spoken only in your head seem to echo. 

_Black Monster. _

The daze that had been inflicted by the words had begun to fade, and left behind them only a vague feeling of clear-headed detachment. Reflecting back onto the whole incident now, Lloyd realized with no small sense of surprise that the revelation of exactly who –_what_- Rose was did not particularly astound him. There had always been something _off_ about her, something _more,_ and something missing. When he had first seen her, it had bothered him a bit, but at the time, had been no big thing. The others, Dart, the Moonchild, even that Soa-forsaken Knight had seemed more important then the brooding, silent woman on the sidelines. After all, everyone had a right to their occasional dark secret. 

_Black Monster._

Soa, but what an idiot he had been. What was the worth of curiosity after all? And aren't the secrets best hidden those best left alone? 

_The broken bleeding bodies lay strewn on a charred floor; piles of wreckage smoldering moodily around them. An incredibly _**wrong**_ sense of relief filled the small boy who sat, stunned, on the blackened ground. _

_Secrets._

Lloyd had never particularly loved his parents. 

Crimson eyes blinked, as Lloyd sought to force tired optic nerves to focus upon the darkly clad woman looming above him. 

He would give her that, the thought floated grimly through his head. He would give her that. She had removed from his life the two most screwed up aspects of his childhood, and even now, he was, _oh so horribly_, grateful. As the face of a raven haired woman swum before him, Lloyd felt a laugh of hysteria bubble up from within, to pass with a strained, horse, noise from between his lips. After all, who was he to be the judge of others?

_Let you who is without sin cast the first stone._

The heat of the desert gave an odd feeling of dizziness as Lloyd sought to pull his rapidly disintegrating world together. An odd, fuzzy blackness began to edge the outlines of his sight, as a body whose reserves were spent felt the last of its energy leave it. Getting out of Between, not to mention the Binding, had been taken far more energy then he had thought possible. 

The sparkling rays of the desert sun shown briefly in one last bright instant beneath his closing eyelids, as Lloyds mind spiraled softly down into the inky blackness that was unconsciousness.

!@!@!

            Rose almost failed to notice the body before her lose its stiff defensiveness, failed to hear the brief choke of harsh laughter that hailed it, to wrapped up was she in her own incompetence. Fool. Fool! Her mind cursed at her; even as violet eyes, ever watchful, noted the impossible Wingly go limp. What an idiot she had been, to let herself be tricked! Her 'vacation', thin lips twitched at that particular choice of words, with the Dragoons had indeed softened her mind if this was what she was coming to. That she had fallen for so simple a trick…a trick that even _ten years_ ago would have failed… Disgusted, and more with herself then the man before her, Rose stretched her foot and gave the comatose Wingly a rather ungentle prod. He didn't move.

This man –Lloyd- had been the first being to nose-lead her in centuries, and Rose had found she hadn't liked it. 

_Poke. Prod. Jab. Kick._

No, she hadn't liked it at all. 

!@!@!

            _A ray of sparkling light played silently across the desert, swirling the sand in its wake, until finally lifting off into the clear, amazingly blue, sky. There, the light drifted awhile, letting the air currents catch it and the swirling winds tease at its being. A glittering mass of shimmering splendor playing across the sky, this particular radiance was, by no means, ordinary. _

            The Almighty and Devine Creator Soa looked, irritated, down upon Her creation, shrugging off yet another fawning breeze. That done, She hovered directly above the heads of the two mortals ever to seriously draw Her attention. Her perfect, skeptic, eyes gazed at the unconscious man and his companion, and failed to see what made these two so special, to have caused Her so much grief. They were powerful, undeniably, but there had been creatures more powerful then they in the course of Her lifetime, creatures which, as all before them, had traveled the length of Between and into their Death. What was it about _these_ two that made them the first to defy that last embrace? She brooded, perfectly, on this for a moment, and when an answer failed to present itself, irritation triumphed and She gave up her watching. 

_            The ray of light then made it way, noiselessly, to the ground, and there, the being who the light truly was drew upon the words and images of a knight who had, unknowingly, lent the light its means of communication. If an observer, watching the strip of glowing _something_ had even for an instant, blinked, they would have missed the quick transformation that left a tall, handsome, blond haired man in the place where the light had once been. _

Absently brushing a strand of golden hair from a face, oh so very much different then Her own, the Perfect, Almighty, Goddess Soa made Her way to the two bedraggled figures, on a not-so-far-off hillside. 

!@!@!

            The novelty of a comatose Wingly and an exasperatingly hot wasteland was beginning to wear dangerously thin, and with it, Rose's patience, what little of it she had had to begin with. Naturally, infuriatingly, pale skin did not take well to heat, and even 11,000 some years did not change the fact that the her flesh pinked and burned as much or more then any other creatures. 

The idea of giving the man at her feet another good kick was beginning to become very tempting. 

Insensibly long hair, _-why did she never cut the damn stuff?-_, soaked up the suns rays, and while Rose had never been one to care about her bodies discomfort when need called for it, surely this was not necessary? Recently back from the dead, exhausted, and unpleasantly hot to boot, Rose felt her foot involuntarily angle itself for another jab at the Wingly's head. 

She had found, through out the years, the violence was the best relief for stress.

As the battle between common sense and the now overpowering urge to create a large dent in the Wingly's skull came to a crest, a light, somehow familiar, yet, somehow _different,_ male, voice from behind her interrupted.

"Rose."

!@!@!

            Lloyd was not particularly sure when consciousness began to return to him, though he was sure of the intense sense of chagrin that colored his thoughts. He had _fainted_. Soa, _worse_, he had fainted in front of a _human_. Well, perhaps not a human exactly…that thought brought a rush of giddy remembrance. Damn, damn, and damn it all. His thoughts as slow and gritty as the sand covered rock beneath him, Lloyd made some effort to return to consciousness with dignity. Eyesight, blurred and wavering as it was, began to return as the embarrassed Wingly came to a foggy awareness. 

            With the returning eyesight, came hearing. 

            A voice, light, male, infuriatingly familiar, yet unrecognized; "…no need, you already know who I am."

            A deeper, this time female, voice answered. Rose, Lloyd concluded after a moments thought. "And I repeat, _I do not_, no matter what guise you wear. Now, if you do not tell me how you came to be as you are, there will be nothing to stop me from…." Here, Lloyd's attention wavered, and the words were lost to him, though the response they gained was not. The derision in the voice that parried the rejoinder was extraordinarily arrogant, so much so, that even one rising from unconsciousness' depths could not miss it. 

            "And is your solution to all problems the sword…? It does make a person wonder what will happen the day you come across a dilemma cold steel will not fix. But let us forsake this argument a moment, look, our Wingly friend stirs."

            Lloyd inwardly cursed whatever small movement on his part that had given his listening away. Propping himself back onto his hands, he looked up, to where two humans stood, Rose, he noted, amused, with a knife pressed rather pointedly against the newcomers throat. Piercing violet eyes flashed, as words that were not spoken, but words Lloyd heard just as clearly as if they were, told him to stay out of this. Returning the, by now, almost familiar glare of the Dark Dragoon –_Black Monster_- , adding a slightly insolent twitch to his lips (to tell her that there was no way he would) he turned his sights on the second figure. And blinked. 

Blinked again.

And blinked a third time for good measure.

Still not convinced that his eyes were not playing tricks on him, Lloyd gave this newcomer an accusing stare, before stating simply,

"I killed you."

!@!@!

It was at moments like these that Soa severely regretted creating the Endiness, and it was at moments like these that She wished, very sincerely, that the birth of the God of Destruction had gone as planned. Which then brought Her to the rather unpleasant conclusion that it was mainly because of the meddlings of both of the two mortals before Her, that Her plan had failed, which, yet again, brought Her to the unpleasant reason of why She had been forced to come here in the first place. A sigh of annoyance She did not even bother to try and conceal passed from lips clumsy and human, as hair, exasperatingly _yellow,_ failed to stay in its perfect place. Giving the petulant Wingly, and his equally petulant comment, no recognition, She turned to the other mortal, no mean feet, not with a knife pressed uncomfortably to Her neck, and gave her a hard stare, as if to command that she explain the situation to the Wingly. A stare that was, amazingly, returned. Had She not, at the last minute, caught Herself, Soa, no doubt, would have blasted this impudent mortal to the death she had long been denied. Yet the cold thought of another face off with Chaos sobered Her before She could do anything drastic, and She stayed Her hand. After all, this mortal did not know who she faced. Another thought, upon which the Goddess scowled fiercely, was that is was quite likely that this _woman_ would have returned Her gaze, even if she _had_ known. Glaring violently, She turned her head from the object of Her rage, to face the Wingly, his cool façade now resumed, if slightly disheveled, the questioning look in crimson eyes showing he _would_ have an answer to his statement-like question. Exasperated, and at the end of Her Devine patience, Soa opened Her mouth to say something that, no doubt, would send both of these mortals to the fiery pits of the netherworld, yet before She could speak, She was interrupted.

""Lloyd," The name was spoken harshly, but had an odd, almost clumsy, ring to it; still, it did not fail to grab both Devine and Wingly attention. A look of surprise coloring his face, the man whose name had been called turned his head sharply, to face the woman whose utterance had, all unknowingly, saved both mortals from a rather painful destruction. "Lloyd." This time it sounded less forced, as if the speaker was becoming resigned to the fact that, yes, the Wingly _did_ have a name. "This is not the man you killed," Soa could hear the scowl in the woman's voice, and guessed with a smug satisfaction that the Wingly would be forced to regret his careless murder for years to come, "though it may wear his features." The Goddess felt, with great indignity, the sharpened edge of a knife point press uncomfortably near her throat. "Whatever it is, do not trust it until I -we- know its identity."

Soa opened a mouth, so different from her own, and Her voice, cool and calm, issued from it, speaking in protesting defense. "I am most certainly _not_ an **it**, though you _are_ correct in your assumption that I am not the Knight whose appearance I bear." She was faintly surprised that the human had figured it out, though it did not show in her speech, "Lavitz minds not that I use his body-" well, he did not 'mind' anything She did. "And I had thought you would be more willing to listen to what I had to say if I came in the guise of a friend." An amused snort came from the Wingly's direction. She ignored it. "Who I am does not concern you, if what I say does. If you must pester me with questions, then, ask why I have come." She paused, and decided that now was the time to cast aside false pretenses. With an air about Her that suggested slow motion, the body She had so clumsily worn was shucked like an old skin, leaving her to glow, in all Her majestic brilliance, once more above their heads. With a voice that came from everywhere, and encircled everything, She spoke.

"Now listen to me, and listen to my story. Realize what you have done, and hear of your reward…"

!@!@!

_In times long past, when the Endiness was nothing but an unborn dream, and those who had come Before faded into legend, a creature lived and was called Chaos, for he was as his name. Discord, destruction, entropy, and things better left unknown was what he left in his wake, and so random and frenzied was he, that nothing could truly be gained from his presence. So the Seven that originally _were_ decided it might be best to lock him away and they did, in a universe different then ours, a place called Between. And thus was Chaos's true form banned from the galaxies. Yet millennia passed and the Seven were scattered, all that they had made forgotten._

_And so it was that a creature of power came upon **this** part of the universe, and took it for Her own. In particular, Soa nurtured one small, baron planet, and from it, birthed her own creatures, the 108 species of the Endiness. _

_In the first years, everything was perfect, and it would be impossible to conceive of the joy that sang through both creations and creator. This was their world, and they loved it. Yet as all good things must come to an end, so did the life of the first creature. Grieved, Soa opened her arms to accept the things soul, but a barrier, a universe not quite _there,_ remained between them. This, the Goddess named with a bitter anger, Between, and She cursed it. Yet all was not as lost as She had feared, for from within the darkness, a power spoke to Her, and long were their dealings. In the end, the creature whom Soa named The Wind (for that was how it appeared to her) reached an understanding with the Goddess, and for a time, all was well._

_Century after century passed, and the Wind conveyed Soa's children to her arms, and in exchange, took the bits and pieces from their souls, until, on the eve of the annihilation of the God of Destruction, two spirits were killed, and did not except their deaths. Of all coincidences, these cowardly souls, to afraid of death to accept their destruction, came together and formed a forbidden alliance. While the Wind busied itself with the remains of a God, these traitorous spirits slipped back into Life, taking with them a large part of the barrier that was all that had kept the world from Chaos. Panicked, for Chaos is a creature whose power is impossible to imagine, Soa came swiftly and silently, and –just barely- managed to re-ensnare Chaos once again, yet not before he had done his damage._

"…So now do you see what you have done?" Soa questioned, the fury in Her voice _almost_ distorting its perfection. "Do you see what harm you have caused?" To Her deep satisfaction, both mortals before Her had the decency to have taken on deeply troubled expressions. The Wingly; his face as cool as always, had hints of distinctly uneasy overtones. The human; ever stoic, deeply disturbed. Yet if qualities of disquiet and agitation colored their thoughts, when the mortals first spoke, their words were as calm and cynical as ever.

"See what _we_ have done?" A snort, this time of derision, issued from the Wingly, who was by now, lounging against one of the stone slabs. "No. I don't believe _we_ do. You didn't seem to think it fitting to tell _us _what damage this…_Chaos…_creature has done." He stressed the _we _'s and _us _'s, though whether this was for the Her sake or the humans' Soa was not sure. About to respond in scathing tones of Her own, She was, -_for the second time that day!- _interrupted by Rose.

"As the Wingly said." The incorrigible human stated. "You have not made it very clear what consequences _our_ escape has caused." The stressing of the _our_ was done in such amused tones, that it was made obvious to Soa who the Wingly had been addressing with his _we_ 's and _us_ 's. Rose continued. "Your story, while certainly making us out as the villains, does not tell of our villainies, save that we inconvenienced a Goddess. A Goddess who, I might add," Rose's eyes took on a shadowed quality, even as they looked up into the light, "has caused _me_ nothing but grief. If She has troubles," A shrug, "it is not _my _problem."

The Wingly's casual nod agreed.

Righteous rage boiled within Soa, as a power such as the ignorant mortals before Her could not conceive, flowed out of Her in fierce torrents. What right had they to blame their troubles on Her? What _right_ had _they_ to accuse _Her_ of anything? It was not their place! A fury as She had never before experienced coursed through Her veins, and a foreign, sadistic, feeling overtook Her. 

"You would know what Chaos did?" Her voice icy, -_oh so icy!-_, and cold. "You would know what disaster he spawned? A child! Simply, a child. But what a twisted, perversion of a child it is! You have heard of Dragon Angles? Very well. Then see how he has used you…" And laying a hand on the heads of both mortals, She twisted their thoughts, and let them see into the future that Chaos's meddling had made…

!@!@!

_The first thing Rose noticed was that she was in a cave. A long, low, cave with walls that well reflected the shifting swirling shadows created by the light of a fire. She was dressed in her smallclothes, and bled from not a small number of minor wounds, yet she huddled under a thick blanket, and some part of her mind was expectantly waiting. The Rose that truly _was_ Rose wondered at this, for who would she have allowed to see her in this state, not even in her armor? Surely no one. Except…. The face of a blond haired man came to mind, and her heart jolted painfully. _

_Zeig …oh, surely…it could not be possible._

_A low, chuckle came from behind her, and now, her heart jumped to her throat. It was impossible! The sensible voice in her mind told her, yet, yet…! A warm hand touched, and trailed down her shoulder. No one but Zeig! Oh, who else could it be? Zeig…! Tears, so long forgotten, would have come to her eyes, yet…something stopped them. Maybe she had indeed, forgotten _how_ to cry. _

_No matter, Zeig will fix that. Zeig can fix everything._

_And then, in that moment, she turned to face him, and her hopes, everything, balanced on that glance. _

_A cry of despair would have torn from her lips, but her body refused to answer to her command. _

_The Wingly's face, _Lloyd's _face, was what greeted her,-Not Zeig!-, smiling coyly, devilishly. This was not the man she had known. A mouth that had refused to listen to her commands, opened to the words of another._

_"And what's so amusing Wingly?"_

_"You." The answer was simple…playful. "And have you still not learned my name?" The man chided, failing to break through the dark despair that was the _true_ Rose. "It is Lloyd. Lloyd. Can't you say that?" _

_A smile, -oh so involuntary!-, a smile, -_not_ her own!-, played about her lips –oh so traitorous!- and her voice laughed with a merriment that should not have been possible. Not after Zeig. "Lloyd. There. I've said it."_

_He smiled, and that part of her that was not the REAL Rose smiled back. "See? Not so hard. Now-" All at once he was serious again, and his message contained hints of danger and warning. The Rose that was the genuine Rose failed to hear it, as a new scene opened itself before her…._

!@!@!

_Kisses, oh. She was covered in kisses. A passion so dark and so utterly foreign realized that she was kissing back. Moans of pleasure and of absolute _animal _excitement issued from a throat that was not, could not, be hers. Silver hair twisted beneath her fingers, and kisses covered that to. The world was a sea of endless kisses and the Rose that was _Rose_ screamed at this utter defilement, while somewhere, a part of her, -not her own!- screamed exultation. A Wingly's red, -oh so deep, blood red-, eyes stared back at her, with a passion that matched that treacherous _thing_ that possessed her. _

_Inside her mind, Rose beat against the barriers that held her to this place, this body, this action that was so _wrong_. _

_A despairing scream issued from a woman who was trapped in her own mind, to echo, and finally lose itself, heard by none, as it faded into the night…. _

!@!@!

_He kissed her. Lloyds mind reeled as it alighted rather clumsily into an intelligence, a being, that was his, yet…different. Lips that belonged to him, yet refused to obey his command, were to busy to open and give voice to his puzzlement. Hair, of an accursed _black_ color, was everywhere, in his eyes, tangled in his fingers, -Soa!- in his _mouth_! _

_Stop, he commanded himself. And when that did not work, more forcefully; Stop! A body that proved deaf to reason paid little heed to his commands, and Lloyd realized with no little sense horror that he had absolutely no control over the situation. His thrice cursed mouth kissed, and was kissed, as finally, the veil of midnight hair parted and he was allowed a glimpse at his body's (for it was only his body's…his oh so rebellious body's) companion. _

_Soa preserve and protect. _

_Rose._

_The Black, fucking, Monster. _

_…Damn that was a bad pun…_

_Horrified beyond belief as his body preformed an action that, when done with a human, was said to be the filthiest of things, Lloyd could do little else but watch as what had to be the longest night of his life unfolded…_

!@!@!

Soa felt –finally- both mortals' minds begin to crumble under the endured horror of the vision, and a self-shame deeper then She had thought possible welled up within Her. Was not She supposed to be a Goddess of Kindness and Creation? A God who's only purpose was to care for Her children? Oh, how power corrupts and twists! Had She been so conscious of Her supremacy that She would lash out at only the smallest of insults? A deep, self-revulsion began to take Her, and horror at Her own actions swirled within. Abruptly, She cut Her vision short, leaving the confused and injured minds of the two mortals to their true bodies in a place different then the desert they had just left. In TimesBane, both creatures now stood before Her mirror. 

_"Listen, you mortals…"_ the voice that must have sounded in their heads held none of the remorse of the Goddess who spoke it. _"You have now seen the consequence of your actions. Chaos used you both to create the child which was to be his legacy, and only you can prevent what he has **already done**. See the mirror before you? It is my key to the Past, the Present, and the Future. With it, I will send you back to roughly the time that this atrocity is to take place. In the bodies of your past, your present selves will have all but no control. Your minds from _now _will sleep, as you relive your history. You will have but one opportunity to step in and change this event, so DO NOT waste your chance on anything, no matter how seemingly important, until you have reached the imperative point. May my blessing go with you."_ And with that, the calm surface of the mirror swirled and shattered, the blank eyes of the two mortals suddenly widened with astonishment. In less then a second they were gone.

Soa, Goddess and Creator of all, slumped into the lush grass of the meadow, and for the first time in Her immortal life, two, perfect, tears rolled down Her cheeks. _What was She coming to…?_ Behind Her, unexpected, a voice spoke.

"M'Lady?"

Soa had never really realized how warm his voice was. How caring. He could forgive Her surely? And She turned. 

Hair, which had been so infuriatingly, imperfectly, yellow, now seemed…right, and lips, when She had born them, so clumsy, now seemed as smooth and perfect as Her own. The look of concern on his face when he saw Her tears was what finally broke Her, and She called to him, Her perfect voice, for once, broken.

"My Knight." Not my Child. Never again, my Child. 

With the only comfort he knew how to give, his arms opened to Her, and, with no hesitation, She rushed into them, now weeping freely. 

"My Lady. Oh, My Lady." Was all he said, and he stroked Her hair, and he held Her close, cradling the creator of the universe as She sobbed helpless in his arms. 

Being the Goddess of all was a job of power, and power corrupts. Oh how She now knew. With the position, came a profound loneliness, and a sense of unbreakable dignity. She should have cared about that, She should have cared about _this_, but right now, _this_ did not matter to Soa. Rocking gently now in _His_ arms, the Goddess had Her first taste of true perfection.

!@!@!

Lloyd spiraled down and down, down and down into infinity. As he fell, it seemed almost as if he saw his life flash before his eyes, but going backward, rather then forward, as people who die are said to see _their_ existence go past _them_. Forever he fell, and forever he _saw_, trapped in an endless continuum. So it was that when, with an uncomfortable jolt and an overpowering feeling of dizziness, he found himself sitting, solid, and in his own form, he was just a tad bit disoriented. For a panicked moment, he sought control of his body, unsure if this was again a…vision…as the one he had suffered before, but to his great relief, after only seconds, all his appendages obeyed his commands, and a single, soft sigh escaped his lips. Eyes that –mercifully- obeyed his orders blinked, accustoming themselves to the dim light of the chamber, when a voice, echoing across an eternity, spoke its words once more to him…

_"You will have but one opportunity to step in and change this event, so DO NOT waste your chance on anything, no matter how seemingly important…"_

Soa, anything but that! Lloyd shuddered at the thought of once again relinquishing control. Never, _never_, again, for no one and for nothing, would he give up the power over his own body! The voice, which had spoken so forcefully in his mind, began to weaken under the force of his will. Slowly, he crushed it. 

**NEVER**.

It was fading now, the voice, speaking only in a dull whisper, and it was only a pitiful, desperate, last action, with which it attempted to force his surrender…

**NEVER.**

_Hair, was everywhere, in his eyes, tangled in his fingers, in his mouth…_

**NEVER**.

_Kisses rained down on him, as passionately, he returned them…_

**Never**.

_…this action, the filthiest of things…_

Never.

_…you will have but one chance…_

….never….

_The Black Monster._

And Lloyd, reluctantly, released his control.

!@!@!

            Rose snuck, silently, down the smooth, stone hallways of the Wingly prison. She had what she had come for; the important Wingly documents whose information was imperative to the destruction of several human colonies lay folded neatly against her waist, their harmful tidings now safe from the prying eyes of Wingly officials. Placed in a spot that was more then simple for a Dragoon to get at, recovering the documents on this mission hadn't been the hardest thing. A grim smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Almost 200 years after the Dragon Campaign; you'd think they'd of pulled themselves together by now; resigned themselves to the facts; the Wingly Empire had fallen, humans now held supremacy, and a dragoon can easily reach a tower room with an open window. And well…

Melbu Frama wasn't coming back.

Turning, as the hallway she had been walking came to an end, she came face to face with a large, armed, company of Wingly's. A siren sounded in the background.

Well, well, well. Maybe they were learning after all.

!@!@!

In the end, she had been forced to kill four of them. It wasn't the greatest loss, but it did show she was slipping. Confident in the complete decimation of the Wingly's powers of both cunning and observation with the fall of their empire, she had not been expecting the trap. Running silently down the abandoned corridor, she was forced to concede that some of Frama's remaining generals were almost as good as he was. Almost. 

They hadn't caught her yet.

The sound of pounding feet, and the buzz of magic gave away a group of about…five, she estimated, Wingly's following close behind her. She would need a hiding spot to escape this group, or else be forced to fight, the later rather undesirable, as it would alert every Wingly in the Soa forsaken prison that of her location. Blood magic was very common these days. The feathery light touch of another mind touching hers almost tripped her. Damn all Wingly's and their enchantments to the fiery pits of the netherworld. Running faster now, her eyes scanning for a closet, or _something,_ in which she could take refuge; she was rewarded with the sight of an open cell door. 

Rose smiled. The Wingly's may be good, but still, they were slipping.

!@!@!

_The thing that had once been called Chaos made its way down the enchanted halls of the stone passage. Drawn by a presence intensely familiar, it began the first stage of its plan. A door that should have remained closed, opened, and a future that was once one, divided into two. _

!@!@!

Swiftly, silently, Rose slipped through the door, leaving it ajar behind her. 

!@!@!

_Time rippled, protesting, inconvenienced by this change in its pattern. Chaos shushed it._

!@!@!

With a smile of smug satisfaction, she watched the incompetent Wingly guards fly past her.

Fools.

!@!@!

**_He_**_ watched as the first step in his plan came into play._

!@!@!

It was then, that from behind her, a voice spoke, and the horror she felt at her discovery was tinged with chagrin. If they could set one trap surely they could set two?

"Do me a favor and close the damnable door. I've been expecting you."

!@!@!

"Well, rather, I've haven't been expecting you, exactly, but expecting someone." Lloyd corrected himself from his moderately uncomfortable place on the floor. "When the sirens went off, and the shouting began, it became rather obvious that someone had rather ticked Karian off. Though," he added, looking up at the woman who had invaded his prison cell. "I must say, I wasn't expecting _you_."

She turned to him, and he noted with a certain feeling of smugness, that she seemed fairly surprised. He grinned, devilishly. "But now that you're here, you might as well get about to unchaining me, we haven't all day you know. And _do_ close the door."

She glared, and in return, he grinned. At 30, Lloyd was an extremely young Wingly, and at that stage in which rebellion against ones elders had to be, by far, the most wonderful thing in the world, which said a _great_ deal about how he had come to be locked in his prison. With a personality as undecided as the winds, Lloyd had very few things that he was extremely set on yet in life –that could come later, when he finally settled into the ideals and standards typical of most Wingly's of the age- yet… at the moment, he _was_ set on something. And that was to get out of this Soa forsaken cell. Again, he grinned up at the human. He _would_ get out, and _she_ was going to help him if she damn well wanted to or not. 

!@!@!

A/N: And so begins/continues my happy little story…in which poor Lloyd'y goes OOC *sniffles* and I screw over Roses pov. ;_;….I must say though…I'm REALLY beginning to pity Lavitz…poor man. Soa is a bitch. @_@..wah….which brings us to the point…BWHA!!!!! I ADDED SOME ACTUAL SOA/LAVITZ…FLUFF!!! @_@..OMG!!!!!! *falls twitching to the floor* ..I know most of you said not to let it interfere with the story…and..er..I didn't let it..to much…^^;;;…my muse is demanding…..it makes me do bad things. -_-…Like put in scary Soa/Lavitz fluff. @_@...but I had to. And I SWEAR I won't do it again if you guys didn't like it. @_@. OOOOOOOOOOH!! AND TO REVIEWERS!!! EEEEEEEH!!! *brings in chocolate bars the size of mars* BWHA!! FOR YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUU!!! THANK YOU FOR ANSWERING POLL!!! AND FOR YOU PEOPLE WHO WANTED TO SEE IT….WELL…THERE IT IS!! BWAH!!! THANKIES ALLLLLLLLLLLLL!!! EEEEH!!!! And THANKYOU to SAPPHY!! Whose plot demons I borrowed...AND TO Rap's whose story is an inspiration!! ^^

Bwah…Guys…REALLY need to know what you thought of the pairing. If you dislike, I swear I will tie my muse to a chair before doing it again…^^….eh…..so…..my new poll.

I thought Soa/Lavitz was…

**Really cool. Oh my. O_O…I wasn't expecting that…EEH!! DO IT AGAIN!!**

**Ok. ^^ But like it was said, don't let it interfere again.**

**IT MUST ROT IN THE FIERY PITS!! HAAAAAAAAAATE!!! HATEEEEEEEE!!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE!!!! @_@**

**Or…other. ^^**

THANKIES SO MUCH!!!! PLEASE R/R!! NEED THE COMMENTS!! NEED THE REVIEWS!!!! AND SUGAR COVERED GUMDROPS TO THOSE WHO REVIEW!!! EEEEEEEH!!! THANKIES!! ^_^


	4. Escapades

A/N: ….*pokes head back into room, then bounces*…I'm not dead! ^_^;; *hears much booing in the audience, so stops dancing and hangs her head*…but I'm very, very sorry…;_;…I haven't posted in ages----….*cries*…infact…I've been thinking of just leaving it….*sniffles, ashamed*…T_T….But…did not..^_^;;…I got a review a couple days ago, and it took me up to 50…*_*…*glomps all reviewers* and I realized that I loved this story and will carry through 'till it finishes on what will hopefully be a 45th chapter (NEWBWHA TO _JEWEL OF LOVE_, THE REVIEWER WHO THOUGHT THAT'S HOW MANY CHAP'S THERE SHOULD BE! ^^) ! ^_^ reviews are happy motivations, and I love you all who give them. ^_^ THANKIES! MWHAHA! EH! ^_^

Disclaimer: LOD belongs to Squaresoft, and Rap's (whose numerous works have given her more rights to it then all those money grubbers in Squaresoft combined.)^_^…yeah (I have had this disclaimer from the beginning, and will keep it! WOOTABAGAN! ^^)

~Lady Crysania Majere

Souls in Silver Midnight****

By Lady Crysania Majere

_Chapter Four: Escapades_

When it came, the expletive was spoken quietly, issuing from the woman's mouth to hang, ominous, in the dark gloom of the cell, the menace in it mixing with surprise. 

His back pressed against the chill stone of the chambers wall, Lloyd permitted himself the brief satisfaction of a twitching at the corner of his lips; he had her attention, at least. Pale, elegant fingers toyed in a bored fashion with one of the silver linked chains that connected the delicate-looking manacles around his wrists to large iron rings set in the wall above. Paying no heed the curse, Lloyd lingered in that position for a moment, before glancing up from his fetters; red eyes taking in the looming woman and her bloodied sword. 

"You haven't closed the door." 

The reprimand was soft, and he smiled as he said it, the twitch at the corner of his mouth spreading -ever so slightly- across his face, before melting back down into obscurity. Eyes of cold violet met mocking crimson and in a voice flat and frigid, she parried.

"You haven't told me why I should."

Sirens echoed in the backdrop, voices carried down the hall, and Lloyd allowed the sardonic light to fade from his face. Black clad shoulders shrugged slightly at the sounds.

"Guards might check a room with its entry hanging wide, and if I screamed out your whereabouts it is more likely they'd hear me through an open door then a closed one."

"You're helpful." The words were light, acerbic, and suspicion danced in them, quiet, subtle, but undeniably there.

His eyes sparkled slightly then, and satirical tones once more colored his words.

"I try."

The soft hum of flying Wingly's accompanied by the thuds of running footsteps grew louder, and the woman paused for a moment, lost in her own thoughts. Apparently unconcerned, Lloyd turned his attention back to the silver chain, moving it in such a way that it might catch a ray of light let in from the hall. A slight noise turned his attention back to the human, however, as, bowing her head in sarcastic acquiesce, the women silently reached behind herself and closed the door. 

Ignoring the mockery of the nod, he permitted himself another smile. 

"Much better. Now, shall we talk?"

***

During the first several months of a person's captivity, a prisoner often goes through a certain eccentric phase in which they either rally against the people and reasons that brought them to their current situation or go through every single possible –as well as impossible- way in which they could escape. At the moment, Lloyd was fervently glad that he could be categorized as one of the latter. Of course, even in the schemes upon schemes his mind had played out to fill the long hours he hadn't envisioned anything _quite_ like this, but he'd gone though enough similar scenarios to improvise with more then a little success. His head turned, and he observed his fingers as they played up and down the silver chain, seemingly engrossed, before suddenly commanding them still to glance up at the woman in his cell.

"We were discussing your gracious unchaining me." The statement range out in the still air, and he tilted his head slightly; letting things unsaid have their due.

Ice met the sardonic fire, and her voice as cool as his was –mockingly- warm answered,

"Were we?"

He smiled. "I believe we were." Steel sang beneath the words, making them fact, rather then opinion. 

She smiled too then, and the smile was a dead, frozen thing, a promise of winter, worse for the fact that it melted slightly, revealing a blacker pledge. Lloyd suppressed a shudder. 

"Wingly, I do not have any keys."

A solitary silver eyelash flickered.

"No?"         

"No. I was not a prisoner here. I have little need of trinkets to escape" Violet eyes narrowed, daring a question.

No question came.

Instead, Lloyd raised a single eyebrow –by now, long recovered from the smile- and his face took on a melancholy expression that was just as mocking as his earlier facade. 

"I see."

"You are a most understanding man, Wingly." The sarcasm was back, and Lloyd welcomed it.

"Thank you. I wonder if the same can be said of the guards down the hall." 

"It is doubtful." The voice again became flat and frozen. "Still-…Wingly, if your intention is to call them, attempt to remember your own advice; the door is closed, they shall have a time of hearing you."

His smile returned, to banish the false air of depression. 

"And that is why I am so fortunate to have this." His hand falling away from the chain, Lloyd's fingers sought out –and found- an area of stone that lit at his touch, glowing with a pale blue radiance. "Karian, in all his wisdom," The mockery in the last few words by far outmatched all the subtle inflictions of derision from before, "saw it fit to have a communication spell made; so that I might inform him when my supposedly inevitable repentance took place. It was created so the sentries at the end of the passage would hear of my capitulation first; a lesson is better remembered –after all- if all know you have learned it. Still, it will serve now…." White teeth flashed in the gloom, "All I need do is put pressure on the stone and we can truly see if the prisons garrison is as indulgent as I."

Amethyst eyes narrowed to slits, and a dagger was suddenly in the woman's left hand. 

"You would be dead before you could activate the enchantment."

"Probably," He shrugged then, "but even so, not entirely correct. There is no spell on my part, as the manacles," Lloyd lifted his left wrist to indicate the silver shackle that clung there, "have a way of absorbing all of the magic I cast –why else do you think I could possibly need you to release me?-, so all that must be done is to add a little more pressure. It takes a person so long to die, as I'm sure you know, and in that time...." the same elegant fingers that had so casually toyed with the chain were splayed with equal elegance upon the shining rock. His voice suddenly changing from airy and mocking to dark and serious, he added, 

"If you truly have no keys then you are a fool, for only a fool would be thoughtless enough to close that door with no way out, locking themselves within. And only a fool would not know that a cell door seals itself from the outside once closed. You," and now Lloyd spoke with a quiet conviction, "are _not a fool, whatever else you may be. So I will ask you to see reason; what possible gain could you derive from keeping me shackled? Nothing, though you stand to lose all. Unchain me and little in your position changes for the worse, though you __gain a guide. And you cannot deny that you need one; it is obvious you have no idea how to get out of the prison, for all the fact that you –most probably- have a map. This corridor, after several hallways, leads to a dead end, and as you're so clearly trying to escape the rest of the castle, if you knew your way around you'd not have come down here. As for the map; Karian remodeled the prison after the Empires fall, and most charts you can find of this place do not include those changes. In fact, an exit used to exist down this way, it was closed up, but a map would still show it as accessible. Logically, it can be assumed you were heading for __that outlet before you were sidetracked." He lifted his left hand again and raised it, to indicate the surrounding walls, "I would not mind being free of this place, and no doubt you feel the same. As I observed before, __you are not a fool; the same can hopefully be said of myself. Now, release me so that I can lead us both out, and we can be on our separate ways all the sooner."_

Lloyd finished in the same bland tone that he had assumed during the speech, knowing with a sense of absolute conviction that he had her; glares, ice, and all. Some things are undeniable. 

So it was with no small amount of incredulity that he saw –for the second time that day- the women before him smile, and this time the winter was tinged with wryness. Her eyes stating of a hidden amusement, she looked down her nose at him, and stated,

"I have no keys."

***

"I have no keys," she repeated, denying what Lloyd knew _must be the truth, "Yet as you have observed Wingly, I am not a fool." Replacing the dagger in her left hand into the hidden sheath from which it had been removed, she propped her still bloodied rapier against the wall closest to her. _

Three long strides were all it took for the woman to bring herself before him, and when, with a practiced ease, she dropped to her knees and clasped both of his manacled wrists in callused hands, he let her. 

Even knowing _something_ was going happen, even stealing himself against all possibilities, Lloyd was not and could not have been prepared for what occurred next.

Black flames erupted about the woman's fingers without warning, twisting the magicked shackles to extreme proportions. Enchantments whose purpose was to absorb the spells of the particular Wingly to which they were attached had little hope against an outside influence. They shriveled, as, without touching the man, the blaze ate away at metal of their being. Still smoldering, the distorted lumps of silver fell to the floor, and Lloyd could not stop the words which flew past his mouth in a breathless exclamation. 

"So _that _is why."

The last of the Dragoons, whose power was over darkness, nodded her head and turned, making her way quickly back across the cell. One hand grabbing her blade, she extended the other to reach out and lightly touch the closed door. Black fire flared. 

Before a now unobstructed entryway, the woman turned once more to Lloyd.

"Get up Wingly; it is time for you to fulfill your part of the bargain.

***

Rose ran. Hallways opened everywhere around her, branching off into infinity, but she paid them no mind, her eyes fixed on the flying silver hair before her, her steps following those of her guide as her mind replayed what she knew of him. The Wingly was clever, of that, there was no doubt. Oh, admittedly, he must have had time to brood on such an escape, but that did not alter the fact that he had played his hand well. Almost perfectly, she was forced to admit, allowing herself to feel a small bloom of admiration. To underestimate this man, to _not_ respect the way he had manipulated what he could of the situation, was death. The only fault in his theories was his focus on keys, but that was little more then a minor flaw that she had used to mislead him, and had Rose been the betting type she would have bid quite highly that this particular Wingly would not fall for such a trivial ploy again.

They passed another corridor, and this time were met by a small troop of guards. In front of her, she saw the Wingly's hand shoot out, and a net of golden light surrounded the group, binding and blinding them long enough for both Rose and her guide to duck down another hallway. That made six sets of guards that had subdued altogether.

Right left, left right they ran, up and down hallways and corridors like rats, 'til there breath came quick and the beating of their hearts should have been audible. Ahead of her, the Wingly slowed, and Rose bid her feet to a halt. His fingers resting calmly upon the handle of a door both dusty and discreet the Wingly turned and spoke, his voice no longer holding any clever mockery, but instead, a quiet warning. 

"Beyond this door is a small, walled-in courtyard; it was abandoned after the prison was modified so we should have no trouble in it, unless someone spots us from the air, unlikely, because one of the towers casts a fairly perpetual shadow across it. Another door will get us out of _there_, but once we are in the open it will be impossible not to be spotted. As you undoubtedly know, the prison is built on a mountain; once we are free of the castle there are only a few ways down, and none of them will leave us unseen. Hopefully, most of the forces still search for us inside the prison, so we should last until night, when we'll be able to slip away under a cover of darkness….You are ready?" Crimson eyes locked with violet, and Rose gave a tight nod. "Good." With a flick of his wrist the door came silently open, for all the fact that, after countless years of neglect, and with its rusty un-greased hinges, this particular exit _should_ have squeaked.

***

_Muted sunlight filtered in from the open door, and dust partials danced and played in a fickle, autumn breeze. Chaos smiled to itself, and watched as, in the distance, a flash of silver and a dot of black disappeared through another door and vanished from sight. _

***

The air was thin at this height on the mountain, but Rose had long ago learned to ignore such discomforts, as the Wingly at her side had apparently not. Sweat glistening on his brow, and his breath coming unevenly, he had begun having his troubles once they had exited the secreted courtyard and crossed out into the open. Though it did not appear he could last very long at this rate, she realized with a foreboding start that he would need to. Halting then, Rose signaled for the Wingly to stop as well. There; a patrol of perhaps…Roses eyes squinted against the sun and felt her lips tighten into a grim line…thirty or so Winglies were headed in their direction. No longer in a narrow passage way, and no longer able to take their enemies by surprise, Rose saw little chance of holding out against such a number, and on the bleak, baron mountain top, saw no hope at all of avoiding their sight. Violet eyes scanning the area around her, Rose sought something –anything- that could perhaps help defend the indefensible situation. The desolate stretch of land remained stark and still –slightly frosted- before, in the distance, coming to an abrupt end. Nothing suggested possibilities, save maybe….

Stooping down, Rose grabbed a rock –small and gray, with a dusting of snow on its top-, and handed it to the Wingly.

"Here. Follow me."

He did.

***

The Wingly Prison of Charle was built at the height of the Melbu Frahma's reign, as a small piece of spite from a ruling brother to his sister. The site for its construction was chosen for several reasons, among them the fact that to the back of the Prison was mountain -that last stretch of solid rock that consolidated into the peak- and to the front was a small, flat area of land that meandered outwards for awhile before going into a sheer drop, almost all the way down to the foot of the mount and into a forest. Only a small amount of magic was needed to remove the _almost_ and the Prison became unreachable to any save Winglies, and then, only by flight. Later, several other trails down were constructed for the moving of supplies, but they were exposed, and closely watched. Yet it was not to one of these paths that Rose ran, for she could never have made it before the Wingly patrol was upon her, even had she known the way and even had the man beside her been in perfect condition. Which he was not, Rose saw; sweat poured down his face, and his silver hair was damp with it. Obviously, something was off with him, more then just the air. That problem would have to wait, though. Ahead of her, the edge of the mountain loomed, dropping down for miles. 

"Wingly," She addressed him quickly and businesslike. There could be no room for cold, or hate, or memories right now. "When we reach the cliff, we are going to jump. No- don't argue, I have not the time, and you not the breath. Count 20, begin now, then activate your wings and throw the rock at me." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Wingly begin to slow, incredulously. "Run, damn you. All should be explained before we reach the ground…Wingly!" Off to the far right, and above, Rose saw the column of approaching figures slow, and beside her, observed as the bluish flows of magic that served as wings slid from her guide's shoulders. They had reached the edge. Now for the telling moment; the pebble she had handed to the Wingly hit her on the shoulder, poorly cast, it did little more then irritate, but that was enough. The magic from a Dragoon Stone can be drawn on at all times if a person knows what they are doing, but true transformation can only take place during battle. Perhaps most Spirits would not accept a intentionally flung rock as combat –up until that instant, Rose had not sure hers would either- but she had lived once in a place that had had an infestation of small mousy creatures who threw stones at everyone they chanced upon and at one point she had taken it upon herself to exterminate them. Anyway, it was enough that her Dragoon Spirit seemed to find the pebble acceptable. As she went over the edge, black wings sprouted, and Rose fell. 

***

Or rather, she flew. The speed at which the air passed her was controlled, and the pure joy that came from that rush, for a moment, banished the darkness. Rose _soared. Yes, though she plummeted through the sky, it _was_ soaring. _

The same could not be said of the Wingly. 

Blue wings flickered, and his plunge was just that, the pale glitterings on his back doing little to slow what so obviously _was_ a fall. The joy banished, Rose's eyes observed another seen, another such uncontrolled decent, where the plunging figure was another man with golden hair and wings of red, instead of silver locks and those quivering strands of trailing blue magic. It had been little but 200 years ago, and she watched again; the scream, the stone, the _fall_. 

Later would come the questions of how she ever saw Zeig in the plummeting Wingly, later she would wonder. For now, it was enough that she saw it, and that one more death on a conscience slick with blood would be an atrocity she could not, at the moment, commit.

Catching the man as he plunged was not the hardest of tasks and neither bearing him with her; as a Dragoon everything seemed lighter. Diving down the impossible distance to the foot of the mountain, Rose gave the briefest glance at her load, noticing with surprise that the Wingly's eyes were rolled back and his breathing shallow. 

Call it curiosity, then, that stayed her hands from dropping the man when the questions of _later came._

***

She had been flying forever; the blue of the heavens a steady, cold companion, the world around her a rushing intangible thing, the ground so far below a sea of green that stretched from one horizon to another.  The dive was eternal, and for Rose, it passed beyond all thoughts or time. Yet the sky only goes on for so far, even mountains come to an end, and the emerald blur beneath her soaring form eventually separated into individual treetops, full of gaps and cut by streams. It was to one such gap and stream that Rose flew; -a small knoll surrounded by meadow-y area, situated closely by running water- and it was at such a place that she landed and threw down her burden.

Perhaps it was jolt of his body as it connected with the ground, or perhaps it was the brief flash of violet light that came when Rose relinquished her Dragoon form, but the Wingly sat up with a start, crimson eyes clear and appearance as cool as ever, if slightly disheveled. Rose waited there for a moment, allowing the man who had been her guide to fully regain his composure, so that he might explain in his own time his difficulty on the mountaintop. Amethyst eyes observed as the Wingly regained his feet, and stood still, his own red gaze focused upon the sheer cliff face from which they had both descended. 

Perhaps had Rose been just several years older in that instant, –ice settled firmly on her being- or just a few years younger –her grief more fresh, and her soul still torn- she would have walked away then, and left curiosity and questions behind with the sarcastic Wingly on the grassy hill in the middle of the forest. 

But she was not; so she stayed. 

***

The silence remained unbroken for a long while, and Rose, watching the Wingly, made no effort to change that fact. If the he did not wish to clarify his odd behavior outside the prison she could question the man later, but for the moment, she waited. The years had taught her that, in the end, patience is always gratified. And it was.

"Thank you." 

If the Wingly's stance and expression showed no change, his tone did. Sincerity rang quietly behind the words, and Rose was surprised. She knew Wingly's -she had enemies, friends, and acquaintances among them- and one of the things she had discovered about their particular race was that they did not thank. Pride before and pride behind, the most you will ever get from a Wingly whose life you have saved is a nod of gratitude, or a returned favor. Perhaps the man who spoke the words knew this also, for he continued quickly, not allowing her time to respond.

            "I fear I misjudged your importance up until the last moment." The Wingly turned slightly, and Rose noticed he wore a slight frown, "Of course, after your display in the cell, I guessed, but was still uncertain. After all…it's been so many years…. Humans usually do not live two centuries. Had I been sure at the time…." Now he turned to face her, and the frown was gone, replaced by an inscrutable look. "All of the Prisons security spells are now in full use. That has _never_ happened before. We were lucky, the enchantments outside the castle are older then the ones within, and only the last of them were made by Melbu Frahma. Look," 

The Wingly raised his arm, and a single pallid finger pointed back towards the sheer face of the cliff. Then his hand twisted in a swift, flicking motion, indicating _his spell was finished._

For a moment, all was silent, and Rose looked to see what the releasing of the Wingly's spell had done. Nothing.

And then the mountainside erupted in crimson fire.

***

Lloyd lowered his hand, and felt the last of his strength go out of him. He had never before used his magic to such an extent, and his insides felt hollow and stretched. The enchantments embedded into the mountain had powers beyond anything he wished to think about, and had drained him to the point where he could not have lit a candle if his life depended on it. Which, he hoped fervently, it would not. Somewhere off to his side, he vaguely heard the woman who was the Dragoon of Darkness –he had known her name once, had been taught or had read it maybe. What was it, again? Daisy? Lily? Iris?- make a comment, but it was spoken softly, and –his mind rebelling- Lloyd did not catch it. Still upright, he nodded, mumbling something unintelligible, while attempting to take a step down the hillside. It was at this time that his feet decided that they did not want to come with him, and for a second it seemed he would fall. Something caught him then, and although a vale of fuzz had draped itself around his eyes, obscuring sight, he knew what it was.

Drained, tired, and stretched beyond his limits, Lloyd gave little thought to squelching his pride for the second time that day.

"Thank you,"

And then it came to him, drifting up from the smooth white pages of a history book,

"Rose."

His vision having by then long faded into a pleasant, fuzzy darkness, where his mind now resided also, he failed to see the woman who was the last of the Dragoons look upwards towards the flaming mountain and reply.

"No Wingly, thank you."

***

_Two figures stumbled, one supporting the other, off the rolling hill where the first, the woman, had started her journey to the mountain prison. Chaos observed both mortals closely for a moment, smiling in silent exultation, before moving off; yet a little more worked needed to be done._

***

Reports were scattered in reckless abandon across the desk, their pages –once a crisp white- now crumpled and slightly stained. The Wingly whose careless reading of them had brought the documents to their current state sighed once, and then winced; a flood of rueful shame washing over him. A man usually neat to the point of obsession, even the looming of the present crisis did not excuse, to his mind, a self-control that had -for a moment- gone rogue. 

Bringing gloved palms up to massage throbbing temples, Karian –Warden of Charle Prison-, began to feel his years. A middle-aged man when the reign of the last Wingly Emperor –who some thought the greatest- had begun; Karian was an ancient being, knowing more of the intrigues and flaws in his kind's culture then any one of the humans who had started the rebellion and Dragon Campaign. Of all Wingly's, he would be the first to admit that, in those battles, several valid points had been made. Naturally, during the height of the Empire such a particular perspective had brought his loyalties under question. Nothing had been proven, of course, but the suspicions harbored by Melbu Frahma on the point had landed Karian in the removed position of Charle Prison's Warden. All of the Emperors qualms were moot, now, however; he was dead, his Empire gone, and his problems fallen upon a man who did not wish them. Again, Karian sighed. He had no particular love of Dragoons –whatever happens, never let it be said that he did- and the trap he had so casually set to catch one had been a task done to more set those last doubts on his allegiance to rest then to actually accomplish anything. Had his guards been just a _little more competent or the spells in the prisons security just a __tad more strong, he would have succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. Now, a failure worse then he could have ever foreseen howled its cruel laughter through his soul, hanging before him 'what-if's' and 'might-have-been's'. _

Karian had waited late in life to be married, and it was even later that he had had a child. The Warden had never been close to his son, and had been farther still from the grandchild that had been heaped upon him after that son's death. The boy's ideals and ideas would have been treason during Melbu Frahma's reign, and to have anyone learn of them would have brought things far more heavy then simple misgivings down upon the Grandfather who had supposedly taught him. A prison cell had seemed the best option, special manacles to keep the prodigal child from a magical ability that might have made him one of Frahma's top generals, had the boy lived during that time. Who could have foreseen his escape, his partnership with the one woman the Wingly world wanted dead most? Silently, Karian wondered;

_"What have you done, Lloyd?" _

Anguish and an icy fear running through him, he asked again,

_"What have you done?"_

***

Orders needed to be given, of that, there was no doubt. To not attempt pursuit on his errant grandson and the Dragoon would have meant his death, and Karian was not quite ready to face that grim specter yet. Summoning his Captain of the Guard, the Warden gave the curt commands that would remove him from the quandary his child's child had set upon him.

"Eron," None of the doubt or troubles that afflicted Karian sounded in the harsh voice that spoke the man who stood before the Warden's desk, "in these last few hours, as you must be well aware, many things have happened. Few them good. Still; instruction comes from all different places," Crimson eyes glared with a powerful force at the calm man Karian addressed, and now the Warden ground his words, "and _I have learned something. Your guards are incompetent; thus, so are you. Your failure is theirs, Eron, and they have failed **most** __mightily. As Warden of this Prison I have little time to clean up after your mistakes. So it shall be _you_ that will recover both the Dragoon and my grandson. Use whatever means you like, but do not fall short again, Eron. I will not tolerate another such disappointment." _

"Sir." The Captain's nod of agreement was minute and sharp, apparent in its disrespect 

Scarlet eyes narrowed, thin lips pursed, but Karian said nothing. Instead, a white gloved fingers twitched, indicating the discourteous man's dismissal. Yet before the Captain had left the room, the Warden steepled his hands and called out a final instruction. "And Eron? One last thing; do not search in two's for them. Lloyd and the Dragoon will surely part company at first chance, and searching pairs of people as well as just individuals will make it finding either of them an impossible task. I do not wish to lose any more time then has already been squandered"

"Sir." Again the curt nod of agreement; and again, Karian let it pass, watching as insolent Guard Captain closed the door quietly behind him.

***

Alone once more in his study, the Warden of the Prison Charle went to his window and addressed the dead spirit of his son.

_"I have given him a chance, Anarael." He whispered_, "If your child has some cause, some reason, for staying with the Dragoon then he shall not be found and should he part from her company, you cannot say I had not bestowed him some hope. Now I now wash my hands of this matter, and let not the outcome touch me, for these fingers are clean."__

Perhaps had Karian known his own child better, he might have realized; the man who was Lloyd's father would have preferred the Warden's hands very bloody indeed.

***

_In another place, in another time, the universe that knew itself to be the true world continued;_

_A Wingly sat, still shackled, in a dungeon. Years passed and time ate away at a rock hard will, 'til finally, even that gave way, and a pale hand found its way to a glowing stone, informing the guards who remained garrisoned down the hall that repentance had come at last. Prejudice eventually forces itself on a mind that must study it, and lessons well learned stay forever. In the end, nothing remained of the man who would have said thank you to a human. _

_A woman continued down a corridor full of closed doors, and found the exit for which she had searched gone. Finally cornered, she was caught and –ironically- delivered to the Charle for which the prison was named, who was expected to deal with the human appropriately. She did; -if not in the way the Warden of the prison had in mind- warning Rose that she must never use her name again, and that no one was to ever suspect that the Dragoon of Darkness continued to live. The woman who had been captured then went free, and to the entire rest of the Wingly world, it seemed that –finally- the last of the Dragoons was dead. _

_For all purposes, she was. _

_Now, utterly; _

_                                    the Black Monster._

***

A/A/N: (Another Authors Note..^_^) Wah…@_@.....I must hand it to myself…I really managed to MANGAL this chapeter….God…I HATE my Karian p.o.v. ..Meh…but I haven't the energy at the moment to fix it…*sighs*…_…meh…so much for Lloyd's grandfather. Bah. I had it in my head as a cool little scene but it came out all funky..*CRYS*…wah…T_T…..Meh…. People are introduced this chapter…bah.. it was boring, and horrid, and I shame my non existent writing talent. *sighs*….meh…

…*glomps reviewers* I WAS AMAZED THOUGH! O_O YOU PEOPLE –for the most part- ACTUALLY ENJOYED MY LAVITZ/SOA BIT! O_O;;!!!!!..^_______^ EHHH!! ^_^!!! For those people who want it, it will happen *nods*…a little later though. My muse wanted to put it in to, but I was trying to give a different light in this chappy. *sighs* oh well. Meh…there be a much foreshadowing here, next chapter the plot should finally begin to rise from the quagmire of my writing. Meh…^_^ This chapter is full of, what my brother calls with much disgust, 'Lint in the Dogs pocket' (a thing he got from one of my stories I made the unfortunate mistake of reading aloud to him…-_-…meh…it's posted under the Title of _A conversation in the Sun_, if any are interested in just what my evil sibling of doom means), and hopefully things will start making a little more sense soon. 

NEBWAH! ^_^ And now, the rewards for the wonde-ful peoples who reviewed! MWAHJ! *brings out huge sack of sugar covered gumdrops* MWAH! ^_^ *goes down the surprisingly long line of reviewers* ^_^ AND TWO-HUNDRED-AND-TWENTY-FOUR FOR YOU, AND ANOTHER TWO-HUNDRED-AND-TWENTY-FOURFOR YOU! ^_^ AND –MWAH!- A HONKING ONE FOR YOU! ^_^ *bestows largness gumdrop upon reviewers head* AND *continues down the line till all have gumdrops* ^_^;;!! WHA! 

N'way! Now I have to have a poll. *nods* because I always have a poll. *nods*. Mh…*muses on what can poll about*….actually, can think of nothing. ^_^ You are spared. ^_^ *many cheers issue from audience* 

Wah! ^_^ Just please tell me what you think, if I have mangled the chappy, and make as many comments as you wish! ^_^ Reviews are my motivation, and I hold them close to my heart. *huggles reviews* ^_^ MWAH! THANKIES! R/R! ^_^


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